


Wish You Were Here

by shellygurumi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drugs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marijuana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellygurumi/pseuds/shellygurumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean decides to get high to celebrate 4/20, but maybe listening to Pink Floyd is a bad idea. It only makes him miss Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

Dean sat on his bed, listening to records. The door was closed because he wanted some privacy. Sam didn’t really understand the concept of 4/20, because he was a nerd that actually did homework in college instead of doing the TV College Experience thing. Rather than trying to explain it, he just lit up on his own to the sound of Pink Floyd. It was a thing. He was lighting up half way through “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” and was thoroughly blazed by the time “Welcome to the Machine” started. Changing the record was easier than he thought it would be for as high as he was.

As Dean stumbled his way back to the bed and fell onto it, the famous first notes to “Wish You Were Here” began to play. Dean laid in the middle of his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the notes turned to chords, then the picked out tune on the lead guitar. Dean closed his eyes when David Gilmour’s voice began singing and took a slow breath. Being high was supposed to be fun. This was not going to go as planned, he already knew.

_So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain_

Dean flashed back to that night in the crypt, Cas fighting against all his instincts, cursing a name: Naomi. That bitch. That woman who came to mess with his mind, tell him lies... How many lies had she told Castiel? She was supposed to be an angel, right? But Heaven was looking a lot more like hell. And it only got more complicated when demons like Meg were on their side.

_Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?_

Dean groaned and lifted his hands to cover his face. Pink Floyd was not supposed to give him these torn up feelings. He should knew he should have listened to Dark Side of the Moon instead, but he didn’t have a TV nor was he about to go buy a copy of Wizard of Oz, so this album was the best alternative. He should have known from the title that it was a bad idea, but it wasn’t exactly plastered across the album cover, so he didn’t think twice.

_And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?_

He hadn’t listened to this song in ages, not since before all the shit went down in their lives. This trip was taking a dark path and if he didn’t stop thinking about the idea of Sam being trapped in a cage with Lucifer or all their roles in Heaven and Hell’s plans it would turn ugly fast. Dean tried to force his mind to a better place. Thoughts of anything better. Lisa flitted across his mind, Sam smiling, and then...

_How I wish, how I wish you were here. We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year..._

Castiel. Castiel’s face, his stare, those blue eyes, his lips in a firm line, unsmiling and yet Dean knew he wasn’t unhappy. That was what came to mind and that was what calmed Dean down from a bad experience with weed. His imagination was vivid as he felt the weight of the bed shift slightly to his right, a depression, where the mental image of Castiel sat down beside him.

Dean turned his head to look at the angel, blinked his eyes and said, “Wish you were here...”

He reached out a hand to Castiel and, honest to God, felt the familiar fabric of a well worn trench coat. He felt something solid beneath it, Castiel’s arm. “You left... Kev’s missing, Meg died, Benny--” Dean’s voice broke on the name. “Sam... he’s in a bad place... I just... I wish you were here.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Maybe Dean’s imagination wasn’t quite good enough to conjure that voice. Instead the imagined angel leaned forward, set a hand on top of Dean’s, and kissed Dean’s forehead. Then their cheeks were pressed together and Castiel whispered into his ear, “I’m right here.”

A hand rested on Dean’s chest, it felt real and solid. He opened his eyes again and stared at the Castiel leaning over him. He blinked, reached up to touch his cheek. “Are you really here?”

“I’m here, Dean... Are you alright?” Castiel asked with brows furrowed, concern covering his face. “You seem out of sorts.”

Dean laughed and suddenly he couldn’t stop laughing. Any time he tried to explain to Cas what was ‘wrong’ with him, all he could do was laugh at the thought of it. This only made Castiel look more concerned, which made Dean laugh more.

“Dean, I don’t understand... What’s funny?”

“You.” Dean said and sat up. He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and hugged him. A little uncertain, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s torso.

“I still don’t follow.”

“I’m high right now, I ... I can’t explain. I just... You’re here. Is this real? Are you real? You’re not just some weird really high vision?”

“No, I’m... really here, Dean.” Castiel didn’t let Dean go, but Dean didn’t let go, either. They sat there, hugging, on his bed.

Before Dean knew what he was doing, he turned his head and placed a kiss to Castiel’s jaw. Castiel went still in his arms, but Dean was too high to stop now that he’d begun. The kisses traveled from jaw to cheek and on towards lips before Dean paused. He pressed his forehead to Castiel’s.

Opening his eyes, Dean saw Cas’s eyes, wide and blue and so close. The only way those eyes could be that close was if Cas’s face was that close. Through the haze of the weed, everything started to become clear to Dean and it was a little shocking. Next thing he knew, he was kissing Castiel. Their lips were pressing together, Castiel’s tongue was sliding against his own, their teeth knocked together and Dean’s hands were in Castiel’s hair.

It wasn’t until the record player clicked to a stop and the sudden absence of music seemed too-loud. Dean broke the kiss, he leaned back, breathless, and a little confused. “Cas...”

Castiel tipped his head to the side and studied Dean, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, Cas... I don’t...” He ran both hands over his face and moved back on the bed. “I’ve got to change the record.” Dean clambered out of the bed and stumbled over to the record player and his collection of records. He flipped through them and then just grabbed the first one his hand landed on. Turning, he swapped out the records and when he turned back, Castiel was gone.

Dean blinked and stared at the bed. The sheets were rumpled, but he couldn’t tell where Cas had been sitting. He couldn’t tell whether the angel had ever actually been there at all. Maybe he was and left... maybe it was all just a weed-induced vision, all in his head.

Maybe getting high on 4/20 was a tradition Dean didn’t need to relive after all. He let both arms sag and just stared at the bed as some Zeppelin album played behind him. And into the empty room he said, “Wish you were here...”

 


End file.
